


Whumptober 2019

by HiddenSt0rms



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Marvel Cinematic Universe, One Piece, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruises, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Fever, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, emeto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22993039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenSt0rms/pseuds/HiddenSt0rms
Summary: 13/31 prompts for Whumptober - multifandom***Reupload***
Kudos: 49





	1. Marvel - Shaky Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I combined the works in my Whumptober series into one work to 1) organize my account and 2) it felt like overkill to have 13 whole individual works just for one shots.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter’s hands are shaking too much to open a pack of tissues. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if Tony walked in - oh no

Peter sniffles as he digs in his bookbag for his travel-sized tissue pack. Well, it wasn’t his exactly, rather MJ had hurled it in his direction earlier in class. He wasn’t sure if it was an act of generous concern or annoyance at his sniffling. Probably the second one. He’d been sniffling constantly and it’s not like it could’ve been too generous; girls seem to have a surplus of everything on them.

Now if only Peter could get the damn thing open. He must be getting the chills because he can’t stop shaking, particularly his hands that are urgently clawing at the hard-to-rip plastic. He sniffles again, this time much louder, as he – _sniff_ \- desperately tries to hold it off – _sniff!_ \- until he has a tissue.

As this was happening, Peter hadn’t even noticed Tony sneak up behind him. The older man watched the scene with a raised brow in a mixture of amusement and concern. He’s finally had enough when Peter wipes his nose on his sleeve and speaks dryly. “Can I help you?”

Peter drops the pack to the floor as embarrassment jolts his body. “M-Mr. Stark!” He doesn’t want to do this in front of his mentor, but he gives all he’s got into the next sniffle to prevent a downpour. That’d be the only thing more embarrassing in this situation. Stupid cold.

Tony says nothing, only bending down the grab and open the pack. “There you go. It was quite the challenge.” 

Peter mumbles an ashamed ‘thanks’ as he shoves a tissue in his face and blows. Within seconds he’s reaching for another one. Tony cringes as he watches the scene and sighs. “Looks like no training for you today. If you can’t even open tissues by yourself, who knows what you’d do in your suit.” It was meant to be lighthearted, but Peter could tell there was a hint of concern behind the sarcastic tone.

Peter sighs. He’s disappointed he’ll have to miss out, but he knows he’s far past the ‘deny and argue’ phase of being sick. He uses one final tissue to wipe his nose and stuffs the pack in his pocket. “Alright, Mr. Stark.”

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” Tony eyes how much Peter is shaking. “With the heat on, I assume?”

Peter gives a half-smile as he grabs his bookbag. “Please.”

With that, Tony gives Peter a pat on the back before making their way to the elevator.


	2. Marvel - Breathless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to comfort Peter through a pertussis coughing spell.

They’renot sure who he got it from or how. It’s considered rare nowadays, at least it should be, and Peter had done his part to keep from getting it. He guessed someone else in New York City hadn’t done theirs.

It’s kept Peter out of school all week. It’s kept him up all night and void of energy in the day. It’s kept him from training beyond compromise. It’s kept Peter from being his inquisitive, talkative self that Tony misses so much, even if it was annoying at times.

May didn’t want Peter too far from the modified medicine Bruce prepared, so he’s been spending nights at Stark Tower, something that should’ve been exciting, but it isn’t anymore, not until he gets well.

Something burning twists Tony’s heart when he hears the familiar beginnings of another coughing spell from down the hall, that familiar cough-cough-cough-whoop sound that makes him hold his breath just listening to it.

Tony’s in Peter’s room in seconds and by his side even sooner. He’s quick to help Peter sit up and nudge the trash can in his lap, all the while trying to form coherent words of comfort, but he can’t seem to find them.

Peter whimpers as he once again succumbs to his lungs. He coughs so hard he gags, he gags so hard he coughs. Logic tells him he should feel embarrassed for doing this in front of the man he looks up to, but his body doesn’t care, and neither does Peter.

Tony wishes he could do more than rub Peter’s back. He’s begging Peter to breathe, to stop coughing, to breathe because the poor kid can’t catch his breath.

Peter tries so hard to bring air in, but even the smallest amount sends his lungs pushing it back out. His heartrate skyrockets when his body realizes it’s not getting the air it needs, and that sends Peter panicking, as well as Tony.

“Try to breathe, come on, please breathe, just breathe, just breathe…”

All Peter can do is spit out what he’s coughed up and cough some more.

“Boss, I advise you to bring him the inhaler.”

“I can’t leave him, FRIDAY!” Tony’s voice is raw with panic, emotion, something he would never think to show in front of the kid.

“It’s only located four feet away on his dresser, Boss.”

That voice always got Tony thinking rationally, and he’s able to retrieve the inhaler and be right back. “Use it, come on Peter. Just try. Please breathe.”

Peter’s still coughing, choking, and everything in between. He spits into the trash can and whimpers. He wants the inhaler so bad, but his gag reflex is only so strong, and he’s shoving his head further in to heave.

Tony quickly understands and rubs Peter’s back again. As much as he hates to see Peter so violently ill, throwing up signifies the fit’s almost over, and that’s the only thing Tony wants right now.

Peter waits for his stomach and lungs to empty everything out before allowing Tony to help the inhaler do its job. He relaxes when he feels the medicine working its way around. It’s the first time in minutes Peter’s able to take a full breath, as well as Tony.

Tony’s hand is still on Peter’s back. “You feel like it’s over now?”

Peter’s eyes are red, teary, and show genuine fear. “Just make it go away.” His voice is hoarse, painfully so, and weak.

“I know, kid.”

They both know it’s going to be several weeks before this part eases up, but neither want to dwell on that fact right now.

As per FRIDAY’s instructions, Tony helps Peter sip some water and wipe his face with a cool cloth before returning his hand to Peter’s back. He imagines it sucking the pertussis from his lungs.

Peter is exhausted, drained, so done with this, so much that he’s able to rest his head on Tony’s shoulder without shame. It’s not long before the teen’s body goes limp.

Tony holds him a little tighter.


	3. Marvel - Fist Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets a black eye from a misunderstanding.

The very second Tony saw Peter walk into his office, he was up on his feet, finger up to silence any chance of Peter avoiding the subject. “Nope. Don’t even talk to me until you explain what all that is.”

“Ah well, you know, us teens and our fancy trends.”

“I mean it, Peter.” Tony used that authoritative, slightly intimidating tone, the one that always got the kid to listen. 

Peter carefully took off the baseball hat and sunglasses to reveal the shiner. He couldn’t even bring himself to witness Mr. Stark’s reaction.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he gently assessed the damage. “You wanna tell me how you got that black eye, kid?”

Peter cleared his throat. “Well I – “

Tony stopped him. “Don’t tell me. You went out patrolling on your own and didn’t call for help because ‘Spiderman doesn’t need help.’ Right?”

“Actually – “

“And then you didn’t want me to know because it’d show you disobeyed my orders to call me when you get in a bind. This ring a bell?”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter started slowly, studying a particularly interesting stain on the carpet. “That’s not it, actually.”

Tony crossed his arms, his face void of belief. “Oh? You wanna elaborate?”

Peter kept his gaze on the brown smudge. “I was walking down Jefferson when this guy I didn’t know pulled me aside and punched me. He started asking where his weed was before realizing he’d gotten the wrong guy.”

“Then what happened?”

“He told me not to speak of it and let me go.”

Tony stood up straighter with an unreadable expression. “That’s it? You didn’t beat him up or anything?”

“No,” Peter nervously met Mr. Stark’s eyes. “It..it wouldn’t be worth it. If I put on my suit, it’d reveal my identity, and it’s not like I knew the guy anyway, so I decided to just let it go.”

“Peter – “

It was now Peter’s turn to interrupt. “I’m so sorry Mr. Stark! I know you always tell me to stick up for myself, but I just didn’t see the point that time! Please don’t think I’m weak! Please don’t take away the suit!”

“Woah, woah, easy kid, that’s not what I was thinking at all,” Tony smiled and placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “A real man knows when to pick his battles.”

Peter was about as shocked as could be. “You’re not mad?”

“Does it look like I am?”

Peter laughed sheepishly. “I guess not.”

“Good. Now how about we get you an icepack?”


	4. Marvel - Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is more than clear that he wants to be left alone. Since when does Peter obey such orders?

Peter sprinted down the corridors of Stark Tower in search of the man himself. Tony hadn’t been returning any calls or texts, and if that wasn’t bad enough, an Irish voice alerted him upon entering the building that “Mr. Stark was ill with varicella and to be left alone.” Peter had no idea what varicella was, but it didn’t sound good, and Tony was just as stubborn as he was when it came to taking care of his health.

He approached a door labelled “Stark Bedroom” and was just about to knock when FRIDAY’s voice appeared again.

“Peter, Boss urges you not to enter, as he is highly contagious.”

“If he were that dangerously contagious, wouldn’t an actual quarantine protocol be activated?”

“…boss has advised me not to answer that question.”

Peter knocked. “Mr. Stark?”

“I thought I told you go away, kid.” Came a muffled voice. Good to know he was at least alive.

“Aw come on! FRIDAY said you were sick. How bad is it? Is it serious?”

“I’m fine. Now go away.”

Peter crossed his arms as if Mr. Stark could see through the door. “I’m not leaving until I at least know you’re okay.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…damn you kid.”

Peter’s triumphant smile faded when he caught glimpse of Tony’s spotted face through a barely opened door. “See? I’m fine, now leave.”

“Wait, Mr. Stark – “

The door slammed.

Peter thought for a moment. “Oh! I get it! Varicella is chickenpox! Why didn’t FRIDAY just say so?”

“Mr. Parker, if you hadn’t been asleep in biology class, you’d know.”

Damn that sassy computer, and damn that kid still on the other side of the door. “Apparently the time I thought I had chickenpox as a kid was actually poison ivy according to FRIDAY, and-”

“And so you didn’t get vaccinated because you thought you already had it.” Peter finished for him.

“What a genius.” Even sick, Tony’s dry, sarcastic tone was still there.

“Well, you can’t isolate yourself forever! May just gave me my allowance, so I can go out and get calamine lotion or something to help.”

“…for once, I’ll take you up on that offer. This thing itches like hell, and FRIDAY shocks me every time I scratch.”

Peter’s grin returned. “I’ll be back really soon! I’ll swing over, or should I run? Which is faster? What do you – “

“Kid just go.”

“Yes sir.”


	5. Marvel - Touch Starved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is so miserable with food poisoning and wants something. Tony’s just not getting it.

Get lunch from a taco truck, they said.

It’ll be fun, they said.

Peter threw his head into the toilet for the umpteenth time that night. He knew he should’ve stopped eating when he noticed his taco tasted a little funny, but had been too hungry to have such self-control. Oh how he wished his suit allowed him to time travel.

Seconds later had Tony rushing in, his too umpteenth time in the bathroom. “Geez kid.” There was genuine sympathy in his tone. He’d never seen Peter so sick, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Neither did Peter, needless to say. He gripped the edges of the toilet seat for dear life as he panted against the waves of dry-heaving. There was nothing left to throw up at this point, not even bile, yet his body just wouldn’t calm down. “…it…it hurts so bad…” His words were barely audible, but Tony understood and asked FRIDAY for more instructions.

The computer got Tony comfortable with fixing a glass of ginger ale and pouring a serving of Pepto-Bismol. He returned to see Peter still on his hands and knees over the bowl and sighed.

“Breathe, kid. I have some medicine that’ll help.”

Peter was able to ignore these words, but not the gnawing homesick feelings inside. As embarrassing as it was to admit, even if only to himself, he really missed May. She was always quick to rub his back, massage his shoulders, check his head for a fever when he got sick like this. But that couldn’t happen because she was all the way in Virginia. 

Peter knew he should feel guilty for keeping Mr. Stark up all night and be grateful he was even staying up with him in the first place, but…it was too embarrassing…Mr. Stark was just standing in the corner, arms crossed, face firm. It was as if he was judging Peter for being sick like this. It was irrational, Peter knew, and of course Mr. Stark cared because he had been there all night, but…Peter would blame the tears stinging against his eyes from the heaving.

Tony went over to flush, but saw nothing to flush. “Just stop, there’s nothing left to throw up. What you need is medicine.”

The sharp tone forced Peter’s aching body away from the toilet and leaning against the wall. He was shaking, shaking terribly, and felt so small and vulnerable under Tony’s gaze. He wouldn’t feel this way with May.

Tony held out the cap of pink medicine. “Drink this slowly.”

But Peter couldn’t drink that, or the soda, or anything. His stomach would rebel and he would go right back to doing this again. He shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. God, he wanted May instead.

Tony’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Don’t you wanna feel better? I know it doesn’t taste the best, but – “

“…no…” Peter managed out between hitching breaths. “I don’t wanna throw up again...”

“Woah, woah, why are you crying?” Tony sat down next to the teen. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No, it’s just…” Now that the thought was in his mind, Peter couldn’t stop himself from sobbing. “Everything hurts so bad…don’t make me drink anything…I can’t throw up again…”

May would embrace him in a hug and assure him that he’s going to be okay. Tony just sat a whole foot away awkwardly. Peter felt his face grow hot at these thoughts. What kind of Avenger wants to be coddled like that?

“I know, kid, I know…but the medicine should help calm things down. Just give it a try.”

Peter buried his face into his hands. He wanted May to rub his back, play with his hair, do _anything_ more than what Tony was doing.

“Come on, kid, just try it. Come on.”

Peter would’ve never expected Ironman to be begging him to do something. Even his cloudy mind could register the direness of the situation in that case. He reluctantly grabbed the cap and took a full minute to drink it. The thought of drinking more wasn’t appealing, but he sipped some of the ginger ale to rid his tongue of the bitter taste.

That must’ve taken the weight off Tony’s shoulders. “You wanna go back to your bed or keep camping out here?”

Peter couldn’t believe he was doing this, but was too exhausted and wrung-out to care. He ignored the question and rested his head on Tony’s shoulder, instantly leaning into the touch.

Tony froze. “…kid?”

“…wait, sorry…”

“No, don’t be,” Tony thought something over. “Does that make you feel better?” He felt Peter nod, and to both of their surprises, added, “Is there anything else I can do? FRIDAY’s good with textbook instructions, but I uh, I don’t know much else about this sort of thing.”

“Uh, yeah…my shoulders are really achy…”

Tony stiffly rubbed the top of Peter’s back. “Does that help at all?”

Tony felt Peter nod again.


	6. Marvel - Unconscious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker forgets to eat and passes out.

Peter knew it was his own stupid fault he was in this situation. One would think that something so obvious wouldn’t slip his mind, yet the only excuse he could supply is being too busy. Sounded justifiable in his head, but certainly not out loud.

The chaos started the previous night when a bank robbery took far longer than anticipated, and after hours of hunting the guy down, Peter was running on empty. Too exhausted to eat the pasta May had left out for him, he’d stuck it in the fridge and crashed, not even bothering to do anything about the rip near the armpit of his suit.

Only he’d crashed too hard, because he ended up sleeping too late to have time to pack the pasta or grab a quick breakfast. He knew he’d regret it later, but one more tardy would mean after-school detention, and May would have his ass for that. Good thing lunch would be soon.

…except Ned had asked Peter for help on his Spanish project during lunch, and not having the heart to turn down his best friend in need, spent the period in the library – a food-free zone.

So by the time the final bell rang, Peter had been absolutely famished. He’d been looking forward to clearing the entire pantry the second upon going home, but Mr. Stark’s car was sitting in the pick-up lane, and Peter’s stomach twisted with more than hunger.

Along with forgetting to eat, Peter had also forgotten that it was an internship weekend. Perfect. Peter would’ve asked if he could eat before getting to work, but Mr. Stark didn’t seem to be in an approachable mood, so he stayed quiet to avoid any conflict. Bad mistake, that was.

All that is why Peter felt so awful as he stood stiffly in his suit. Mr. Stark thumbed through the ripped material, surveying the work needed to be done. “This won’t take long. The sooner I fix it, the sooner we can start actual training.”

“But why do I have to be wearing it?”

“It’s in such an awkward place, that’s why. It makes it easier.”

Peter bit back a groan, but Mr. Stark could see everything.

“Geez, calm down. It’ll barely take ten minutes.”

Peter willed himself to stay upright as Tony got to work. It felt like a balloon kept blowing up bigger and bigger in his head, yet somehow weighed him down. His hunger wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t so goddamn _hot_ in his suit.

Seconds turned into minutes, and the feeling wasn’t going away. The edges of Peter’s peripherals grew black and fuzzy, and soon coated his entire vision. He couldn’t hear anything now, not Tony’s voice, the tools, nothing. He wasn’t even sure if he was still standing because he couldn’t feel his body, and there was nothing he could do about it.

All cut loose when the floor rushed up to meet his face.

* * *

_"…good, you’re awake, good…”_

Peter started to wonder why Tony was so far away, but the hand sliding up on his back revealed that he was closer than he sounded. He had no idea how he got on the floor until Mr. Stark spoke up.

“You passed out, kid.”

Oh yeah. Just one second ago he was standing. Crazy how much can change in a second. Peter wasn’t sure if he was feeling better or worse than before. He didn’t feel as light-headed, but his heartrate was insanely fast, his head hurt, and a sticky layer of heat engulfed his skin.

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” Tony’s words had a joking tone, but the way his eyebrows were pulled together revealed his deep concern.

“…no, sorry about that.” Peter knew it was lame, but apologizing was the only thing he could think of to say.

“Don’t apologize,” Tony ordered, helping Peter sit up, ever so slowly. “Did you get hurt when you fell? I caught you as much as I could, but my reflexes aren’t that fast. I’m getting old, you know.”

Aside from how he felt internally, nothing new seemed to be wrong, so Peter shook his head. Tony relaxed a little, but not enough to let this pass. He pressed two fingers into the side of Peter’s neck and felt his forehead, lips pursing in thought.

“You think you know why you passed out?”

Peter stared at the floor. “Uh, yeah…I’m just hungry, that’s all.”

“Hungry?” Tony raised a brow. “What do you mean, ‘you’re hungry’? When’s the last time you ate?”

“Lunch…”

“You’re that hungry after only – “

“…yesterday.”

Tony didn’t like that one bit. “That’s over 24 hours! Why haven’t you been eating? Are you sick? Hurt? You said you didn’t get hurt and you don’t feel warm, but I swear, if you’re lying…”

Peter Parker sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he explained everything, finishing it off with a weak smile.

Tony understood, but that didn’t mean he was happy. “I’ll lecture you later. For now, I’ll have one of my chefs prepare something heavy. Don’t think about moving.”

Peter expected Tony to rush out of the room, but he only typed something into his phone and stayed right by his side.


	7. Marvel - Don't Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter thinks he can keep doing schoolwork with the flu. Tony does not agree.

“101.3. You’re staying home today.”

Peter groaned. That’s what he’d feared, and he already had enough numbers to worry about today. “Aunt May I’m fine, that thermometer must be broken.”

“Yeah, but my hand isn’t,” May rested her palm on Peter’s forehead and frowned. “Either one tells me you have a fever.”

Peter knew she was right. Hell, he’d be dumb for even trying to deny it. He felt stuffy, his throat hurt, his head hurt, and well…his whole body actually, but that didn’t matter at the moment. He looked at May with genuine worry. “I really can’t miss today.”

Instinct told May this was more than just a bruised ego talking. “What’s going on? You got a test or something?”

“Math midterm.”

May debated something in her head. “What time do you have math?”

“Third period, so uh, 11:05.”

“Tell you what. If you don’t have a fever anymore and you truly feel better, I’ll take you just for third and then pick you up. Fair deal?”

That took the weight off the world off Peter’s aching shoulders. A whole 10% of final grade off. “That’s perfect! I should be fine by then.”

“But if you’re not, I’m not taking you. Understand?”

Peter’s lips weakly pulled to a half-smile. “You worry too much sometimes.”

“You’re not one to talk.”

Either Peter didn’t have a comeback or he was just too weak to say it, so they fell into a comfortable silence. May couldn’t help but take the chance to card her fingers through his hair. It always used to soothe him when he was sick as a child, and superhero or not, he’s still her baby. “I’m sorry you don’t feel good.”

“Mm.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Alright then,” May stood up off the bed. “Try to get some sleep.” She gave his hand one final squeeze before turning off the lights and heading out. Peter set his alarm for 10:30, blew his nose, and was out in seconds.

* * *

Not enough time had passed before his phone was going crazy to wake him up. He fumbled through his phone to turn the motherfucker off and closed his eyes again. As much as he wanted to, he was feeling no better. If anything, he felt 10x worse. But again, that didn’t matter.

Peter sat up a bit too quickly and laid back down. He seriously considered just listening to May’s advice and keeping his ass right where it was, but it didn’t matter. _It didn’t matter._

Wobbling legs somehow managed to carry the teen to the dresser to throw on the cleanest clothes he could find. He hadn’t realized he’d missed a button on his shirt until it was all messed up, but he couldn’t find the energy to go back and fix it. Oh well. Guess he wouldn’t be voted “Best Dressed” in the yearbook.

Peter finished getting ready, taking twice as long as normal and slugged down the hall. He cleared his throat and hoarsely said, “I’m ready.”

May took one look at him and shook her head. “Oh honey, you can barely stand. Go back to bed.”

Peter really could not argue at this point. Can’t say he didn’t try. He’d made an attempt to push through, albeit a weak one, but there was no way he was going all the way to school like this. His legs ached like hell just from the short walk to the kitchen; no way in Hell was he attempting New York City walking.

Once Peter was back in pajamas in bed, May came in with a cap of green liquid and a water bottle. For once, Peter actually wanted to take the medicine. There was no downplaying it anymore. He felt absolutely horrible.

May caught on to this. “You took your medicine without arguing? You must really be sick.”

Peter didn’t laugh at the joke, or even smile for that matter. He just turned away from May to cough. He was grateful for the water placed in his hands to soothe his burning throat. With a final kiss on the forehead, May turned off the lights and left him alone to sleep.

* * *

Peter awoke sometime later to a different hand on his forehead. It wasn’t warm and comforting like May’s. It felt calloused and freezing cold, or maybe his fever was just that bad. Either way, he shivered and looked up to see the last person he’d want to be seen by like this.

“M-Mr. Stark? What are you doing here?” Peter couldn’t believe that raspy voice had come out of him.

“May called me over. She had a work emergency,” Tony’s frown deepened. “Don’t tell me you’re getting the flu, kid."

Peter’s eyes opened at that. A cold sure, but there was no way he was getting _that_ sick. Not right now, not with midterms. He forced a stiff laugh that turned into a coughing fit. “I doubt it.”

Tony didn’t seem too convinced, but changed the subject regardless. “Some kid named Ted came by to drop off your homework. It’s on your desk.”

Peter looked over and cringed at the stack. He’d have to start it ASAP if he had any chance at catching up.

The silence following had Tony turning something over in his head. “Don’t you usually get mad when I talk about Ted? I feel like I always get snapped at for it, and yet you’re being silent.”

“…oh yeah, it’s Ned…I’m just thinking about all the work I have to make up for today,” Peter forced his pounding head to function. “I can stay after school tomorrow to make the math midterm. No but wait, I have Decathlon practice. I guess I can take it during lunch. I’ll just eat more after school then.” Peter’s arms might as well have been made of Jell-O because they couldn’t even push him up.

“Kid, why are you getting up? Or, trying to, that is.”

Peter looked genuinely confused. “Don’t you see the work over there? I can’t get more behind.” It didn’t matter that he’s sick and feels terrible. He has grades to maintain, colleges to get into. _It didn’t matter._

Tony sighed and pushed Peter to his back. The push was more like a light tap, but Peter had zero resistance against the hand. “Don’t move.”

“Wha – “

“Look kid, the flu is no joke. If that’s what you have, which I’m almost certain, then you’re gonna be out of commission for a few days. Best take it easy.”

“But – “

“No buts. You’re not leaving this bed, especially to do boring nerd stuff.”

Peter was a bit taken back by this sudden, parental side of Tony. It should’ve made him ecstatic that his mentor cared that much for him, but Tony was still being an obstacle, and an annoying one at that. Peter found himself rolling his eyes.

“You rolling your eyes at me, kid?”

Peter mentally kicked himself. He’d forgotten this was _the_ Tony Stark, _the_ Ironman, sitting on his bed. “No sir.”

Much to Peter’s surprise, Tony smiled a bit. “May asked me to make sure you rest and you know, don’t die, which is what I’m gonna do. What _you’re_ gonna do is stay right there and let me bring you the soup she made. Got it?”

Peter should’ve felt like he was in trouble under Tony’s gaze, yet even his feverish and drowsy mind noticed the hidden care. “Yes sir.”


	8. One Piece - Infection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji’s culinary skills are good for more than cooking.

If there was one thing Chopper hated as a doctor, it had to be viruses. Viruses couldn’t be treated with antibiotics, only time, and unfortunately the pirate life didn’t have built-in sick days. Chopper wished there was more he could do, but with what he had, their options were limited. 

The captain had been complaining of an earache one too many times before Chopper’s diagnosis became clear: viral ear infection.

Chopper’s painkillers had worn off and the new round was yet to kick in, leaving Luffy desperate for any sort of immediate relief. He had one cheek pressed to the dining table while his hand held the red and inflamed ear. For a while it was an ice pack that’d been holding said ear, but now the bag was dripping wet on the table, though Sanji couldn’t care less.

Sanji couldn’t stand to see his exuberant captain acting like this. He’d been relieved when Luffy had come in several minutes prior asking for a snack. While an appetite was a good sign, Luffy was waiting for it all too patiently, and that ironically nerved the cook more than Luffy being impatient.

Sanji set the plate of sliced fruit on the table. Normally the mere sound of a plate clinking against wood would send Luffy into a flying frenzy, but he didn’t budge, only giving the fruit a solemn look.

“Your snack’s ready.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well,” Sanji shifted on his feet. “Aren’t you hungry?”

This time Luffy was giving Sanji the solemn look. “Of course, but it hurts to move my head.”

“Have you taken more medicine?”

“Yeah, but it’s not working yet.”

“Give it time. Eating should help you feel better, it always does.”

But Luffy only glanced at Sanji with big, sad eyes. “Not until my ear stops hurting.”

That did it for Sanji’s heart. He wished he could do more than place a comforting hand on Luffy’s back. He wished there was something he could do right then and there to snap Luffy out of it and get him back to acting normal. It was one of those times where his skills as a chef, while top-notch, couldn’t solve every problem...

Or could they?

Sanji thought back to his time on the Baratie. Zeff, being more accustomed to food than medicine, always seemed to have a concoction ready for all the common childhood ailments. There was the usual - ginger ale for stomachaches, hot tea with honey for sore throats, but sometimes that geezer got so creative that Sanji wondered if the only reason they even worked at all was the placebo effect.

But there was no way this one had been the placebo effect. He remembered questioning Zeff’s sanity at the time, but looking back, this trick did wonders for one particularly painful earache.

Sanji patted Luffy on the back before turning around. “I’m gonna make you something that’s gonna help, okay?”

“Okay.”

Sanji rummaged through the cupboards find the ginger. Instinct told him not to use food for something other than eating, but this was an exception. He shredded and strained the ginger in warm olive oil and heated a cloth in the microwave. He soaked the cloth in the ginger and gave it to Luffy.

“Hold this on your ear. See if it helps.” Sanji’s instructions were much more gentle than Zeff’s were. _“Just shut up and hold it there so you quit whining, you little brat.”_

Luffy clearly didn’t understand what it was or how it worked, but he trusted his chef, and kept the cloth over his ear. About fifteen minutes later, the pain had almost completely gone away, at least enough for Luffy to devour the snack sitting before him. Sanji smirked at the sight.

And that marimo says cooking skills are only good in the kitchen.


	9. One Piece - Waterlogged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luffy has unconventional ways of comforting his nakama.

Luffy sure could do some questionable things. The Straw Hats usually try to understand, but more often than not leave him alone to do his thing. Sometimes they’re simply too scared to ask, other times they simply give up.

Today, however, would not be one of those times.

The Thousand Sunny was nearing a winter island, which meant the crew confined themselves inside to keep warm. But a sniper would be confined anyway despite the weather, as he was under strict orders by a reindeer to stay in the sickbay. It was only a cold, yet Chopper could be such a worrier.

Given that everyone should be inside, Nami had panicked when Sanji pointed out that he hadn’t seen Luffy in a while. Like living with a toddler, silence is always a red flag. He either was asleep on Sunny’s deck, sitting in his spot and had been too slow to notice the weather change, or drowning. Nami prayed with all her might it wasn’t the third one.

Nami relaxed when she saw Luffy alive, but he was doing neither of the two alternate scenarios. He was doing something else, but what that something was, she hadn’t the slightest idea. Luffy was dumping a bucket of what looked to be seawater over his head. He shivered violently as the freezing water covered his body, which wasn’t even wearing a coat.

Nami yelled out as loud as she could, "Luffy! What in the world are you doing? You're gonna get sick doing that!"

"Exactly!" Luffy flashed his big smile. He was going to stretch to refill the bucket, but Nami was by his side in seconds to stop him and take the bucket away.

"No, no, stop! Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind?" Nami looked at him with narrowed, confused eyes. "Why are you trying to get sick?"

"So I can be with Usopp," Luffy said this as if it were obvious. "Can I have the bucket back?"

Nami held it further away. "No. What do you mean, ‘so you can be with Usopp’?” 

“So I can keep him company.”

“Okay, but why do you need to be sick for that?”

Luffy sighed impatiently. “Chopper won't let Usopp leave the sickbay until he's better, and he won't let me in there because he doesn't want me to get sick too. I can only imagine how lonely Usopp is, so if I get sick too, Chopper will let me in the sickbay and I can keep him company!"

Nami understood, and her look of disapproval turned to warmth. "That's...that's really sweet, Luffy, but you don’t have to make yourself sick for that. Usopp’s strong. He’ll be better soon. And besides, we don’t need two crewmates down.”

But that wasn’t enough for Luffy. "But he's gotta be bored! What kind of captain lets their sick nakama be bored?"

"I'm sure there's something else you can do. How about we ask Chopper? It's a cold, not the plague."

Luffy still looked a little unsure, but his eyes lit up anyway. "Okay!"

Nami eyed how much Luffy was shaking. "But first, you need to change into dry clothes before you actually do get sick.”

“Wait…it’s freezing out here!”

“You think?”


	10. One Piece - Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro knows how to comfort his captain after a particularly bad fever nightmare.

Luffy was going to die. He was sure of it.

He had no idea how such a good chef could allow this to happen. Luffy banged on the kitchen door for his crewmates to come and let him out, but they never came and now the door was too hot to touch.

The engulfing heat blurred his vision and threw Luffy to his hands and knees. He clambered around on the floor, but even that was growing too warm to touch comfortably. No matter where he turned, bright red charged at him until he was surrounded in the corner.

And the smoke, oh the smoke. Luffy could only hold his breath for so long, and now the black stuff was making its way through his lungs. He wondered how Sanji did this every day. Luffy’s body did the only thing it thought to do in this situation: cough. Each cough somehow sucked in more smoke, and he wasn’t sure if it was his vision going or the kitchen covering with ashes.

He hoped the sound of his coughing would’ve lured someone to come save him, but now his coughing had grown too weak to be heard, and the flames were touching him and they were touching him and they were touching -

* * *

Luffy registered the hands shaking him awake, but just barely. The only thing his cloudy mind could supply was panic. He wanted so desperately to tell whoever it was to escape, but his lungs needed to get the smoke out now. Luffy’s body jerked itself upward to double over in a severe coughing fit, one that made him see stars near the end.

Zoro firmly patted Luffy’s back until it was over, frowning at the intense heat pulsing through the damp fabric. “Breathe, you need to breathe.” His heart shattered into a million pieces, but his stoic nature did not show this.

Luffy sputtered for breath as he tried his hardest to warn Zoro. “…fire…it’s on fire…you need…”

Zoro snatched the water glass and held it up to Luffy’s mouth. “Drink.”

Luffy drank as if he’d been lost in a desert for days.

“It was just a nightmare. The ship’s not on fire, but you are,” To confirm his original suspicion, Zoro felt Luffy’s forehead, then cheek. “Your fever went way up.”

Luffy was a complete mess; panting for breath, hair disheveled beyond a comical level, complexion the same tone as the sheets. He looked at Zoro with weak, solemn eyes. “…you need to leave…”

“I’ll get Chopper.”

“No…” Luffy said, almost whining. “Get off the ship! It’s on fire!”

“It was just a dream.”

“But it felt so real…the ship was on fire, I remember it, I was there – “

“Luffy,” Zoro’s voice was firm, almost authoritative. “You’re awake now. You’re safe. Here, drink some more water.” Distraction always seemed to calm down his captain, which it seemed to do now, but only partially.

In a move that would’ve earned a lifetime of teasing from Sanji, Zoro rubbed Luffy’s back. His hand was surprisingly gentle for a pirate with a 320,000,000 Beri bounty. He did this until he felt Luffy’s breathing and heartrate even, as least as much as they could with a high fever.

“You believe the ship’s not on fire anymore?”

Luffy weakly nodded.

Zoro got up to soak a cloth in the bowl of ice water. He helped Luffy lie back down and carefully draped it over his forehead. “Focus on the cloth until I come back.” Simple instructions for a simple-minded captain.

Luffy imagined the coolness of the cloth extending through his veins to bring down the fever. He liked to think the water dripping on his face was washing away the sweat and taking this sickness away.

What would’ve been an agonizing minute passed quickly, and before Luffy knew it, he saw antlers approaching the bed.


	11. One Piece - Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A busted lip should be child’s play compared to the impossible injuries Luffy’s survived, but then again, he is a child at heart.

A loud thud rings through the air.

Nami sighs, gearing up for another lecture. She’d warned multiple times that playing tag was not a good idea, that the boards sticking up on Merry’s deck made it unsafe, but the look of pain on Luffy’s face changes her priorities.

He’s holding his lip, eyes growing in distress at the warm substance coating his hand. He wants to get up and shake it off, but Usopp is telling him to stay put.

Chopper instantly goes from playing mode to doctor mode. “Let me see.” He orders, and Luffy unsurely reveals the gash on his lip.

“Ih hurs.”

Everyone gasps. Something like that shouldn’t hurt. This kid should be dead, long dead actually. Something like a busted lip shouldn’t hurt.

But Luffy’s clearly uneasy, and Chopper’s already retrieved gauze from his bag to press against his mouth. “If it doesn’t stop bleeding soon, you may need stitches.”

Something minor like that shouldn’t worry Luffy, but it does, and the three stay by his side while Chopper continuously replaces the gauze.

It quickly becomes obvious that the bleeding isn’t going away by itself.

“Luffy, I’m gonna have to give you stitches,” Chopper’s voice is caring while urgent. “Don’t worry, it’s very simple, and I’ve done it dozens of times. Nami, do you think you could find Robin? Her powers would be helpful for this.”

“Got it.” Nami ruffles Luffy’s hair before running off, despite the action contradicting what she’d lectured the boys not to do earlier.

“You’re in good hands, well, hooves. You’ll be fine.” Usopp assures, helping Luffy up to his feet.

“THAT DOESN’T MAKE ME HAPPY!”

* * *

Luffy sits by a makeshift medical supply table. His eyes are big with confusion at the scene around him, but they are trusting. Robin uses her powers to hand Chopper the syringe and needle.

“This is gonna numb your lip so you don’t feel it, okay?” Chopper instructs carefully.

But Luffy still looks unsure. He’s used to being asleep during treatments, like he was after Alabasta when he had a fever. He never knew what went on, only that he’d wake up good as new. But seeing it as it happens is a different story altogether, and he isn’t sure he likes it.

Suddenly a disembodied hand is squeezing his own. He focuses on that as he feels the needle go in.

As Chopper carefully cleans the cut, Robin’s hands massage Luffy’s back, play with his hair, anything to distract him. It seems to be working.

The reindeer is precise yet gentle with the sutures, and before they knew it, the cut is stitched. He wipes sweat from his brow and asks, “How does it feel?”

Luffy can’t feel anything, but he recognizes the lack of pain. “Ih dob’t hur.” He grins at how funny his voice sounds, and that grin allows Robin and Chopper to breathe easily.

“The stitches should dissolve in a few days. Until then, we’ll have to be careful to keep them from getting infected.”

Luffy tries to pout. “Bo bea?”

“What?”

Robin chuckles. “I believe Captain is asking if he can still have meat.”

“Oh,” Chopper thinks for a moment. “It depends on how easy it is to chew. I bet Sanji can make easy to chew meat, what do you think?”

Luffy eagerly nods in such a way that warms their hearts.

That kid always bounces back quickly.


	12. Be More Chill - Delirium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jeremy calls Mr. Heere asking for water when they're states apart, something's bound to be wrong.

The car clock flashes 2:32 am. Michael feels weird driving this late at night, but if it were the other way around, he knows the Heeres would do the same for him.

He had been pulled from sleep by a call from Jeremy’s dad. Apparently Jeremy had called Mr. Heere deliriously asking for water, and the thing is – Mr. Heere’s in Arizona on business. Both ends of the line were worried, and Michael had his shoes on and keys in hand in seconds.

Michael’s heart twists with worry when Jeremy doesn’t come to answer the door. He fishes the key out from under the mat and lets himself in. Surely one of these days they’d get robbed; fingers crossed it wasn’t tonight.

“Jeremy?”

Nothing. Michael picks up his pacing up the stairs and nearly flings himself into Jeremy’s room. The lump on the bed appears to be moving, which is a relief, but doesn’t solve the problem.

Michael sprints over and gently shakes the overly warm shoulder. His frown intensifies when he realizes his forehead feels even hotter. “Jeremy?”

Jeremy’s eyes don’t open as he mumbles, “…water…”

Michael would have to get a number on the fever later. For now, he’s throwing himself back down the stairs to the kitchen for water and hurrying back. As Jeremy downs the glass, Michael leaves in search of a thermometer, and returns to see Jeremy staring at nothing.

Michael gets to work turning on the device and sticking the tip in Jeremy’s ear. “Jeremy, look at me. What’s wrong?”

Jeremy’s face is pale, eyes sunken, glassy. He barely registers the cool metal in his ear. “…I need water…”

103.4. Michael sharply looks up, brows furrowing in worry. “What the hell’s going on? Why’s your fever that high?”

“Water…” Is all Jeremy can get out. He rubs his throat, a clue, and Michael deduces something in his head.

“Open your mouth,” He instructs, and shines his phone flashlight into Jeremy’s mouth, cringing at the white spots. “You’re asking for water because your throat hurts, right?”

Jeremy isn’t looking at anything, only slowly blinking at the words. Michael wants to scold and ask why he hadn’t called him over if it was getting this bad, but he knows that shouldn’t be his priority right now.

“I’m taking you to Urgent Care. You probably have strep, and you're dehydrated.”

Jeremy shakes his head. No, he doesn’t want that. He wants water. Water...

Good thing Michael knows this guy better than anyone. “I’ll get you more water for the car ride, okay? Here, I’ll help you up.”

It takes a minute for Michael to essentially lift Jeremy to standing and even longer to get him down the hall, but they’re able to get in the car and get him to the hospital.

The strep throat tests come back positive, and Jeremy is given antibiotics and an IV.

Michael steps into the lobby. He has a phone call to make.


	13. Yuuri On Ice - Adrenaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rush that comes with performing can't mask the pain of a broken ankle forever.

The seconds before starting are always the most anticipating. In those short moments, the entire world is limited to the ice, and anything outside the rink becomes insignificant. All Yuuri can see looking out is the bright lines shining down on him and the vague outlines of the audience, leaving his focus on the white floor down below him. Finally the music starts, and so does Yuuri.

The first part of the routine goes well, Viktor’s advice ingrained in muscle memory, experience gifting him confidence as he glides across the ice. He only has a half second to process what he’ll do next. He’d been having trouble landing this next jump in practice, only being able to with lots of concentration. But he needed the difficulty points, and Viktor wouldn’t allow Yuuri to hold himself back and back down from a challenge.

With no alternative available, Yuuri has no choice but to give it his all and hope for the best. He feels himself lift into the air. For a second, he thinks he might just make it, but his body leans too much to the right for comfort, and all his weight crashes down on his right ankle.

Embarrassment flushes Yuuri’s cheeks as he hears the audience’s audible gasps. He doesn’t bother to assess any possible damage or recompose himself; doing so would get him further behind in the music, so he gets up and continues.

Yuuri bites back a smile when he hears the audience is now cheering, and he figures he’d made the right decision. As he’s finishing the routine, Yuuri notices that he doesn’t feel secure on his right ankle, but he chalks it up to the shock of the fall and pushes through.

Finally the music stops, and so does Yuuri.

The moment he steps off the ice, the afflicted ankle gives out, forcing Yuuri to grasp onto the half-wall for support. Viktor’s original plan to shower Yuuri in praise for his quick recovery fade into a deep worry. “Yuuri! Are you okay?”

With the adrenaline no longer pumping, all of Yuuri’s attention turns to his ankle, which is now lifted up above the ground, as even lightly touching it to the ground shoots intense pain. Yuuri’s face pales when he realizes something might be seriously wrong and he shakes his head.

Viktor wraps an arm around Yuuri and helps him hop/hobble over to the nearest bench. Yuuri whimpers in pain as he extends his leg straight in front of him. Viktor’s heart shatters at this, and he squeezes Yuuri’s hand in an effort to comfort him.

“I’ll be careful.” Viktor assures, making extreme delicate work of untying the laces and ever-so-gently helping Yuuri to lift his foot out of the skate. Tears well in Yuuri’s eyes as Viktor removes the sock, and they fall when he sees how bad his ankle looks. It’s swollen, deformed, bruised purple – either a break or a sprain, but either one would keep him off the ice for a while, and the realization makes the tears fall harder.

“Oh Yuuri,” Viktor frowns as he wipes away a tear with his thumb. “How did you even manage to finish like this?”

Yuuri vaguely shrugs. Adrenaline, he guesses, but they can reflect on the situation later. For now, Viktor is calling an ambulance on his phone, all the while squeezing Yuuri’s hand. The guy on the other end of the line instructs Viktor on what to do, and he leaves in search of an icepack.

“Help will be here soon. I’ll be right here the whole time,” Viktor soothes as he places the icepack on Yuuri’s ankle. “I love you.”


End file.
